


A Tale of Red and Gold

by JabberwockyJinxes



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Gen, Hurt Merlin, Mystery, Protective Arthur, a tad bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-16 22:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7287418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JabberwockyJinxes/pseuds/JabberwockyJinxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been a month since the last body showed up, and Arthur was inclined to think that the killer had gotten scared and stopped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tale of Red and Gold

Elyan found the first body just outside his forge.

It was the early hours of the morning, so he almost tripped over the thin, pale man as he went to get his forge open for business. He had traces of dark hair still attached to his scalp, a thin face, and clear blue eyes still open in an expression of sheer terror.

He turned around, found Arthur, and came back. Arthur stared down at the victim, turned around, and found Gaius. Gaius sent for Merlin, Merlin came, and there they stayed.

There was nothing remarkable about the victim. He was young, underfed- no one of any great importance. His body showed that he had fought back against his attacker and that he had been strangled to death. There was only one strange feature about the victim: His hair had been messily torn from his scalp.

A brief investigation led Arthur and Elyan to the lower town, where the young man (a lad with the unfortunate name Beavis) had worked at a local brothel and taken odd jobs in the lower town. He had no parents and four younger siblings who would starve without him. He had few friends, but most people said he was a generally pleasant person- he worked hard when he was being paid for it, he kept to himself and he had a strong moral code that kept him more or less out of trouble. No, he didn’t have any enemies. Yes, he was a whore, but he had a family to feed so that was that. No, he hadn’t complained about any aggressive customers lately.

The case seemed fairly open and closed. Beavis had been out one night, a client got drunk and aggressive and decided to take his hair for some reason before fleeing the scene. They determined that the killing was a one-off, put it out of their minds, and tried to never think of it again.

There was one other thing- a wound on his stomach, carved out by a knife. It read only the number five.

 

The cook found the second body. Arthur had been initially suspicious of the cook- the lower body of the young man had been roughly cleaved off with something sharp and with great skill. He stopped being suspicious of the cook when he saw just how shaky the man was, and just how pale his face had become.

There were three sacks of salt missing from the kitchen. Arthur wouldn’t have noticed, but Merlin mentioned it to him- there had been a shortage at the feast and he had been sent out to replace them.  
The young man who had been killed looked like an older, tougher version of the boy from a week weeks ago. He was fair-skinned, but was obviously used to working outside. His body was thin, malnourished, and he had a surprisingly tough square jaw. His eyes were grey rather than blue and his hair was dark, but not as dark as the first body.

Gaius looked over the body and said that his legs had been cut off before he died. There were fingerprints around his neck, but his true death came from blood loss. There was enough swelling around his throat that he wouldn’t have been able to breathe as he died, trying desperately to get away.

There was so much blood.

The boy’s name was Garret. He had come to Camelot at the urging of his mother from one of the farming towns just outside the city. He had found work running messages throughout the town for various nobles.

His mother buried him in a small ceremony in their hometown, where he had lost all but his mother to the plague.

There was a number on his left arm. Four.

 

Arthur found the third body right outside his chambers.

Merlin had entered the room at sunrise. It was a day to luxuriate in, to let the feeling of sun settle underneath his skin, to work up a light sweat at training that the breeze would take away. It had been a month since the last body showed up, and Arthur was inclined to think that the killer had gotten scared and stopped.

When he tried to leave his room, a cheerfully-complaining Merlin just a step behind him, he noticed that there was something stopping the door from opening. He could tell it was soft, and he could only open the door partway. He forced it open with one smooth kick and tried to stride purposefully over the obstruction.

A strangled gasp from Merlin drew him back. He looked down.

The boy lying dead on his doorstep had bright blue eyes, just barely exposed underneath long eyelashes. He was young- maybe fifteen or sixteen. And his entire torso was missing.

Arthur jerked back and drew an arm around Merlin, pulling him close to Arthur.

When Elyan found the first body outside his forge those two months ago, Arthur hadn’t been afraid.

When the cook found the second body outside her kitchen a month ago, Arthur hadn’t been afraid.

But now? Looking down at the third body, which bore such resemblance to his manservant, he was so afraid.

He called out for the guards. There should have already been guard there. There should have- dammit! Arthur felt sick with panic as he gripped Merlin closer and closer. And he didn’t have his sword and the guard weren’t coming.

“You were just out there.” Arthur repeated, a note of hysteria entering into his voice. “You didn’t see it on the way in, and you just came in here not ten minutes ago, and- Guards! Guards!”

“It’s fine, Arthur, it’s fine.” Merlin said. His voice was tight with barely-suppressed emotion. “He probably distracted the guards and-“ he broke off for a second, and Arthur tugged him closer. “Arthur, stop, you’re hurting me!“

Arthur took a step back, but kept both hands on Merlin. He looked his manservant in the eye.

“You are not to go anywhere unaccompanied. Not to get me breakfast, not to walk back to Gaius’s at the end of the day, not even to answer nature’s call. I will have guards stationed outside Gaius’s rooms.” Arthur was shaking so hard, and this was a fear he couldn’t bear, these insidious tendrils creeping up along his spine and reaching towards his manservant. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, yes! Arthur, please let go.”

Finally, Arthur let go of Merlin’s arms. He stepped back and he could already see dark bruises beginning to form where his hands had been.

The guards finally showed up. They had heard someone call sorcerer and went blindly to find the sorcerer, fearing an attempt on their King’s life.

The elder of the two guards pushed a tuft of dark hair off the dead boy’s face. His number was three, and Arthur never did learn his name, but his face featured prominently in his nightmares for years after.

 

Merlin found the fourth body two days later.

He had been sound asleep. Arthur had kept him working incessantly that day, and always within Arthur’s view. At one point, Arthur had gotten up and dragged him back into view as Merlin struggled and protested.

“Arthur, there’s lots of skinny, blue-eyed men out there. What are the chances I’m next? I don’t think you should worry so.” Merlin said, but at the same time he was glad.

Arthur had insisted on walking Merlin back to Gaius’s rooms that evening, keeping one hand on his shoulder at all times. He didn’t leave until he saw two guards positioned directly outside Merlin’s tiny bedchamber. Merlin felt constantly on edge.

Whoever the killer was, they were getting more skilled by the minute. The first body, Beavis, had been a clumsy kill. The killer had taken his hair, but it had been shorn roughly off his head. The second and third bodies had been progressively more elegant, efficient, difficult kills. To kill a man in the lower town wasn’t difficult, but to drag one to the kitchens was much more so. To get one directly outside the King’s bedchambers? It took skill that spoke of practice and long planning.

Merlin’s sleep had been disturbed as of late, but that night he was just so tired he fell asleep within the blink of an eye.

He woke up later to a steady dripping sensation. Something hot and wet was land on his forehead. Drip, drip, drip. The early morning sunlight was just starting to filter into the room, and Merlin opened his eyes, trying to locate the source of the dripping.

He screamed.

Arthur arrived just minutes later, his hair and clothing in wild disarray. He found Merlin alive and well, but badly shaken. The boy was sitting on the patient’s cot right next to Gaius, who was wiping blood off Merlin’s forehead. All Arthur could see was the blood, and Merlin, and he panicked. He dropped to his knees next to Merlin.

“Are you alright?” He asked. “Merlin, are you all right?”

Merlin didn’t answer. His heart rate seemed to double.

“He’s fine, sire.” Gaius replied for him. “Just a little shaken up.”

Arthur stood. His legs felt shaky as they carried him towards Merlin’s small bedchamber.

There was a young man attached to the ceiling. His legs and neck were nailed into the ceiling, and where his arms should have been there were only two tidy cuts. Blood from the cuts was still drip, drip, dripping down onto the white cover on the bed.

He had blue eyes, prominent cheekbones, and a long, thin body. He raced out of the room back towards Merlin. Arthur would tear the entire country apart before he could kill Merlin.

Gaius had coaxed Merlin to talk a little and to drink some sort of herbal tea. He kept repetitively rubbing at his head where the spots of blood had fallen over and over and over again.

“Arthur, I-“ Merlin started, then hiccupped. “I’m sorry, I should have- I didn’t-“

“Hush.” Arthur said fondly. He grabbed Merlin’s (frail, skinny, breakable) wrist and pulled his hand away from his forehead. “Did you see who left him there? Was there anything out of place at all, anything I should know about?”

“No, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Merlin said. He started to look sleepy- Gaius had probably put something in his tea. “Arthur?”

“Yes?”

“If he kills me, can you bring me to my mother to bury in Ealdor? It will bring her comfort.”

“You’re not going to die, dammit.” Arthur said. He thought back to the body hanging on Merlin’s ceiling.

Carved by a skillful knife onto his legs was the number two.

 

Arthur almost found the fifth body in his own rooms.

There hadn’t been a killing in nearly four months, and Arthur had been inclined to think that the killer had been scared off. He had sent off patrol after patrol hunting down enemies of Arthur and Camelot. He had tripled the presence of the royal guard in the castle and the town, and the town heaved under the effort of supporting them. He had torn Camelot apart in search of the killer.

He still dreamed about the faces of the boys- so like Merlin, and the ghastly missing body parts. Every day, he vacillated between sending Merlin far, far away to get him away from the killer and keeping him close to Arthur.

A month passed.

Two months.

Three.

Four.

Merlin always looked worn and thin. He couldn’t go anywhere without someone with him- a knight or guard or Arthur himself. He had lashed out at Arthur many times, yelling that he could take care of himself.

Arthur knew he couldn’t. He would never forget the look of sheer terror on Merlin’s face as he sat there, so many months ago, huddled beside Gaius with blood on his face. They were fighting an intangible foe that could disappear in an instant- almost like magic.

The killer probably had magic, and Merlin (skinny, breakable Merlin) wouldn’t be able to do anything against them.

He had taken to giving Merlin some excuse to stay with him until late at night. Sometimes Arthur would claim nightmares so that Merlin wouldn’t leave his bed. They both knew Arthur didn’t need anyone there to ward off the nightmares- he could go and see Merlin alive in his own bed and be content.

By the end of the fourth month, Arthur had almost relaxed his guard.

Merlin woke up in the well-guarded antechamber of Arthur’s chambers at the end of the fourth month. For merely a second, he felt like almost safe under the cover of darkness.  
Then, he felt a familiar dripping sensation on his forehead. He sat up abruptly, panicked, wiping the blood away from his face- but there was no blood, and it was only his fear-addled brain creating something out of nothing.

He was just so tired.

Three months passed.

 

It wasn’t unusual for the King of Camelot to wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of his manservant gasping and crying, yelling out at some person to stop.

The King would then go to his manservant and tug him close. They would fall asleep like that.

Sometimes the servant would confess:

“I don’t know why I’m so afraid. It’s just a threat, something I’ve faced a hundred times before. Why am I so afraid, Arthur?”

The King wasn’t Gaius and didn’t know what to say to that, except what he couldn’t say out loud: That Merlin was his best friend, maybe his only friend, and that Merlin’s loss scared him more than anything.

 

Two months longer passed. The harsh protection of winter passed into the hope that accompanied spring each year. The incident with the bodies was at the back of even Merlin’s mind by then.

It was a fine spring day and there was something in the air that spoke of hope, new beginnings. He felt like he was shedding the weight of winter’s fear, letting go of the stifling heat of summer and the death of fall- all that was left was the cool breeze across his face.

He was on his way to gather Arthur’s breakfast one morning when three things happened in quick succession:

1\. A crow cawed and swept down close by his face. Merlin jerked away and spun around.

2\. A man threw himself away from Merlin, falling to the ground.

3\. The man reached his hands towards Merlin, begging him to bring him to the king.

Merlin gave him a hand up. “Do you seek aid?”

“Yes.” The man whimpered. He was nondescript- not too tall, not too short, with eyes that were an indiscriminate shade somewhere between grey and blue and weather-worn skin. A simple farmer, Merlin concluded, nothing more.

“From what do you seek aid? Are you in danger?”

“It is not I who is in danger,” he paused, “I have received word from a man in my village that he plans to kill the king’s manservant!”

Merlin paled and grabbed the man’s arm, dragging him towards Arthur’s chambers. “What is your name? Where do you come from?”

“I am Leopold, sire. I hail from a small village outside of Tintagel- Taernsby.”

They reached Arthur’s chambers a few short seconds later. Merlin flung the doors open without knocking.

“Arthur?”

Arthur wasn’t there. He was probably out on the training fields already; Merlin was quite late, after all. He turned to Leopold to tell the man to follow him-

And suddenly there were hands around his neck, choking the life out of him. He struggled against Leopold, his magic jumping to the surface to stop him. He was too slow. Already his vision was going hazy and he could only mumble a half-formed spell, and then everything faded to black.

 

When Merlin woke up a minute later, he couldn’t breathe. He felt a piercing pain on his back, and realized that it was the bite of a blade carving into him. Merlin’s head felt strange, like he was far underwater and couldn’t come back up.

He must have managed to mumble a spell under his breath, because Leopold went flying backwards into the wall. Merlin heard a muffled crack and let himself sink back into unconsciousness.

 

Arthur had been having a brilliant day. His servant had been late, but he was up with the sun anyway. He felt free of responsibility and fear, and it was the best feeling in the entire world. Down at the training fields, he had been sparring against Leon and Gwaine and the adrenaline was still pumping cheerfully through his veins.

He went back to his chambers and his mood was still high. He opened his door, fully expecting Merlin to be there with his breakfast.

What he did not expect to see was his manservant lying on the ground, struggling to breathe. Next to him there was a peasant man whose breathing was ragged and uneven, teeth gritted in pain. Arthur took in the scene and ran past the peasant, calling for the guards. Then, he knelt next to Merlin, shaking him gently. The boy didn’t wake.

“Merlin?” He asked. His voice was small, quiet, almost childish. The boy was still breathing, but it was obvious it hurt. And there was blood pooling under his back.

Ignoring the pained groans of the man across the room, Arthur scooped Merlin up and turned him over. Merlin whimpered lightly, and opened his eyes. He tried to speak, but instead made a horrible wheezing noise, unable to get enough air through his swollen throat. It broke Arthur’s heart.

He bandaged up the wound, then placed Merlin on his bed, sending the guards for Gaius. Then, anger in his heart, he turned to the man contorted painfully in the side of the room. He was flickering in and out of consciousness. It looked like he had been thrown against the wall. He called out in a pained voice.

“The manservant is a freak.” He spat out. “I was only being a patriot, Arthur Pendragon. I was only ridding your kingdom of magic, since you are too weak to do it yourself.”

Arthur knelt next to him.

“What is your name?”

“L-Leopold.”

“And you say you are a patriot? You think killing innocents is equivalent to patriotism?”

“They aren’t innocents. They have magic!” Leopold spat. Arthur slapped him, hard, across the face.

“How dare you.” He said, very softly. “How dare you! How dare you attack innocent people and call it patriotism.”

Something flickered in Leopold’s eyes. “You don’t see it clearly, my Lord. Magic is evil and must be exterminated. Your manservant has magic.”

“My manservant is a good man.” Arthur said blandly. “But don’t you have magic? How else did you kill all those boys without being caught?”

“My wife was killed by magic.” Leopold sighed. “She was all I cared for, and she was torn away from me!”

“Why target Merlin?”

“When I arrived in Camelot, I was very naïve to the ways of courts and kings. Merlin looked a bit like the one who killed my Elaine, so I followed him around. I had already killed the one who killed her, but that wasn’t enough. I didn’t make him suffer enough, I had to go back and get it right. Imagine my surprise when Merlin goes out to the forest and ends up making the flowers dance across the sky! The instant I saw it, I knew he was evil.”

“What about the other boys?”

Leopold closed his eyes. “I needed practice. I needed to get it right for my Elaine. I wanted the sorcerer to know what it feels to be hunted.”

Arthur shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “Guards! Please bring him to the dungeons.” Then, he looked Leopold in the eye. “I will put you through trial because I am considered a fair ruler. But know that you will be convicted and you will be killed in the most miserable way I can dream up.”

Leopold nodded. “I tried to save you, Arthur Pendragon. When the sorcerer takes away everything you love, know that you were warned.”

Leopold was dragged from the room and Gaius entered. From there, it was a constant confusion of people everywhere. Merlin was brought from Arthur’s bed to Gaius’s chambers. Then George was there making him sit down and there were people scrubbing at the small pool of blood on Arthur’s floor, and the image of Merlin lying there, small and broken, wouldn’t leave Arthur’s head.

 

For three days, no one dared disturb the king.

 

Gaius pressed healing droughts down Merlin’s throat and pressed bandages against his back and within two days, Merlin could sit up and speak a little. Gaius’s diagnoses was simple: Bruising around the throat that stopped him from talking and breathing too much and the knife wound to his back. Gwen visited, and Gwaine and the rest of the knights.

He waited for Arthur.

Arthur was conflicted.

Merlin was a good man. He knew that was a fact, same as the way that the sky being blue was a fact. Merlin was also a sorcerer, and thus evil.

Leopold had been interrogated and it confirmed what Arthur already knew- that he wasn’t a sorcerer or a madman, just a regular peasant farmer driven half-mad by grief.

For three days, Arthur didn’t speak to anyone or see anyone. His work piled up and still he sat and thought. At the end of those three days, he descended the castle steps and went to go see Merlin.

 

Merlin had been waiting on a visit from Arthur for some days when his friend finally came. He woke up from an artificially-induced nap to the feeling of someone rubbing circles over his hand.

“I had time to think about you. About your magic.” Arthur said abruptly.

Merlin’s mouth formed a perfect O. Arthur snorted.

“I see you didn’t know I knew.”

Merlin tried to rasp out an answer, but Arthur put a strong hand on his shoulder to stay him. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll talk about it later. For now, just know that I’m very, very angry and that you can expect to polish the entire army’s boots as soon as you’re well enough.”

This time, Merlin did try to speak. A grin split his face nearly from ear to ear. “Arthur, I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you-“

“Of course you did. Idiot. Why on earth would you tell the king of a land that persecutes magic that you have it? Only you, Merlin.”

Merlin relaxed. “Leopold?”

“I was going to have him tortured to death. I thought of so many terrible things I could do to him. But I didn’t… I didn’t have the heart to do it. He lost his wife, who he loved dearly. He was given a fatal dose of sleeping draught. It was quick, painless.”

“Good.” Merlin rasped. And then, to his embarrassment, he started to cry, chest heaving from the effort of taking in enough air. Arthur gathered him up into his arms, a comforting, familiar gesture.

“I promised I would protect you.” he whispered, so quiet Merlin probably couldn’t hear.

That night, they sat together and discussed many things- all but the red number one carved into Merlin’s slender back.

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from fanfiction.net


End file.
